Dreamtalia - The Darkest Dreams
by Z The Intellectual
Summary: "Humans always say you should be careful what you wish for... Because it could come true... But what harm could come of it? Wouldn't everyone be happy then...? Come... Come to me, sweet friend... and I'll take you to a place from which you'll never want to leave..." This is my first story... Please, enjoy!
1. To gain Respect

**Dreamtalia**

**A/N: I will readily admit, this is strongly based off of the unfinished Hetalia RPG game Dreamtalia. My disclaimer: I do not own Dreamtalia. I may switch it up quite a bit, though… Any ideas and/or references to the game itself belong to the creator(s).**

**Now, I will commence to the story. Please enjoy!**

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**Act I**

**To Earn Respect**

* * *

It was a crisp, autumn morning. The orange leaves were being shaken from their branches as they swirled around the streets, guided by the arctic winds from farther north. It was rather early, but the sun had at least risen a little bit. A large house rested at the top of a hill surrounded by neatly cut brown grass. Many of the trees that surrounded it in this secluded area had already been stripped of their leaves and stood bare.

A blue and red car sat parked in the driveway of the manor-like house. It seemed like a rather silent morning. The owner of the house was still fast asleep, however, and the smell of fresh pancakes and maple syrup emanated from the premises.

A boy who seemed to be in his early twenties was in the kitchen. He was wearing a bulky, warm hoodie with red sleeves, and a red maple leaf in the middle of the white base of the coat. His pale blonde hair was wavy and covered his ears and a single strange curl hung in front of his face. He placed a plate of pancakes on the table, stacked almost six inches high. The said character, Canada – also known as Matthew Williams – then went to tend to a pot on the stove, where he was focusing on making hot chocolate. A pot of coffee brewed in a machine on the counter.

The fog outside had caused the window to become frosted. It was likely below freezing outside. Canada shivered and his pet polar bear, Kumajirou waddled into the room and curled up on top of Canada's fuzzy slippers. Canada sighed and pet the bear on the head. "…You must think it's cold, too, eh?"

Kumajirou lifted his head and stared back at Canada with beady dark eyes. He did not reply, but stood up and began walking to the stairs just outside the dining room. He walked up two steps and turned to look back at Canada.

The blonde smiled. "Of course, Kumajirou… We should go wake up America and tell him that breakfast is ready, eh?" The bear kept a blank expression on his face as he proceeded up the stairs with Canada following behind.

Upstairs, another boy in his early twenties was still asleep in his bed. His blanket was decorated with the American flag, and his room was atrocious. Books, games, magazines, important documents, and research papers were scattered about the floor along with discarded clothing and mismatched shoes. The boy was bundled underneath a total of three blankets. He had blonde hair and blue eyes and his glasses, Texas, which he often wore, were also on the floor with every other imaginable item. The said character, America – also known as Alfred Jones – was sound asleep.

Just then, a knock was heard at his door. America didn't budge. "America…?" a timid voice inquired. The door opened, revealing Canada and Kumajirou in the doorway. Kumajirou sat as Canada entered, cautiously stepping over the debris scattered all over the floor. "America?" Canada's brow furrowed as he approached the big bundle of blankets and sheets on the nearly bare mattress. There were so many layers of thick blankets; Canada feared his brother wouldn't be able to breathe.

"Breakfast is ready, America… I made pancakes…" Canada whispered through an opening in the bundle.

"I don't want you to cook for me, England…" America mumbled absently. Canada chuckled. His brother had always been a heavy sleeper. Sometimes, it was really fun to hear him talk in his sleep. Alfred's former caregiver had been known for his terrible cooking. That probably explained why America rarely cooked his own food and always preferred having foreign cuisines. Well, it's a good thing Canada was taught by France…

"I'll be waiting for you downstairs, America." Canada said before slipping silently out of the room, following Kumajirou down the stairs. As they reached the floor with the kitchen, Canada sighed. Something seemed to be troubling him as he kept his blue-eyed gaze trained on the floor.

In the bedroom, America was dreaming. He imagined that he'd finally found a cure for cancer. But suddenly, out of nowhere, America's cell phone began ringing loudly.

America leapt up from the bed, startled, throwing all of his blankets into the air and then falling to the floor on his face with a loud thud. From downstairs, Canada called almost inaudibly, "Alfred, is everything okay up there?" He knew his brother to be the clumsy type… all Canada could do, though, was hope that America didn't hurt himself. America lifted his head from the hardwood floor and groaned. "Ow…"

He sat up and rubbed his head. The impact must've been harder than he thought. "Who in the name of Congress would be calling me at such an hour?!" he exclaimed as he reached over and picked up his cell phone. After reading the caller ID, his eyebrows raised and he answered the phone.

"Hello?"

The voice on the other end cleared his throat before speaking in a distinguishable British accent. "Hello, America."

"England? Why are you calling me? Do you have any idea what time it is?!"

The Englishman on the other end of the line sighed. England, otherwise known as Arthur Kirkland, was sitting in a chair at his own table, sipping tea from a dainty teacup. He had such blonde hair that it looked almost yellow, green eyes, and thick eyebrows. He had an almost perpetual scowl on his face as he heard the American's comment. "Would you just shut up and let me speak? I know it's early, but spare me a few seconds of your time, America." England said, frowning.

America stood and picked up the wad of thick, heavy blankets with one hand as he replied, "Alright, Dude. Clue me in. I'm listening."

"Thank you. Anyway, what I was trying to say, was that I may have thought out another War tactic. I need your help in testing it out. I also need assistance in testing out a new potion," Britain explained.

There was a long period of silence on the other end of the line, as America contemplated what England had just said. For a moment, England thought America had hung up on him.

Finally, America hesitantly replied, "So you want me there as a lab rat…?"

"Not necessarily, you git! In fact, I'm coming over there. I'll be bringing my things so we could conduct the experiment in the basement—

"Wait a second, Dude!" America interjected, "Why can't you do all this stuff at _your_ place?!"

Britain paused for a moment. "It is important business and research. It's none of your business to know what it is that I'm doing."

"If it's none of _my_ business, why are you bringing _your_ business to _my_ house?!" America objected. It was a rational point… If Britain wanted privacy, why would he come to America's house? Besides, Canada was staying with him for the time being. America didn't want Canada to get caught up with all of their disagreements and altercations.

"That is beside the point, Alfred." England said. "Meet me at the café in fifteen minutes. We'll discuss this later."

Before America could object again, the Englishman hung up the phone abruptly, leaving America dumbfounded. Why was England always ignoring his opinion? The blonde shrugged and proceeded to get dressed. He put on his uniform and bomber jacket from the Second World War. His alien friend, Tony was sitting at the laptop computer on his desk. The screen was black and covered with several binary codes and numbers typed in a green font. America's brow furrowed in confusion. Then he smiled and said, "I'm leaving, Tony. I'm gonna go meet up with Britain. I'll see you later, but try not to cause any alien invasions in the country while I'm gone."

At the mention of England's name, Tony repeatedly muttered British insults. America laughed, "I'll call D.C. to watch you as well."

When the nation made it downstairs, Canada was sitting at the table, slowly eating a stack of pancakes. He had a cup of hot chocolate beside him and Alfred's plate and cup of coffee were sitting at the table across from him. Canada watched as his brother found his shoes in the hallway closet and proceeded to leave through the front door. "W-Wait, America!" Canada called.

America stopped for a moment and then turned around as if he'd just realized that Canada was sitting at the dining room table. "Oh, hey, Canadia! What's up?"

Canada seemed to shrink back a little bit. Even though he was, in fact, taller than America (by only a little bit), he wasn't nearly as bold. Canada was the elder of the two siblings, and he was curious to know what his brother was up to. "What do you mean, "What's up"? Where are you going, America?" Canada inquired patiently.

The younger sibling seemed to just shrug off the question. "Ah, I'm just going to see England for a bit. It's nothin' for you to worry about, Dude."

Canada couldn't even put into words how much he hated this sort of treatment. "I thought you hated England… A-Aren't you going to eat breakfast? I made you a plate of pancakes and some coffee."

"I do hate England, Canadia. But I had to get over that," America replied, glancing over at the plate of pancakes and steaming coffee mug on the table. He came into the kitchen and took the whole plate, cup, and bottle of Canada's homemade maple syrup and started to make his leave. "W-Wait a second! You're not going to sit here and actually _enjoy_ this meal I made? I mean…" Canada shrunk back. "You don't even _want_ to sit here and eat with me?"

America sighed, "Canada, I have to go."

"But, America, don't you think I deserve the least bit of respect? I mean, you took my whole supply of maple syrup! And you're not even going to leave me any? Could you at least share?" Canada said. He was trying to reason with America, but because his brother was younger, it was unlikely that the nation would listen to him. America rarely did.

"Can we talk about this a bit later, Dude? I have to meet England in fifteen minutes at the café." America said hurriedly, as he grabbed the plate and poured a generous helping of maple syrup on top. He started for the door with his plate and cup of coffee. He looked back at his brother for a brief second, and without giving Canada a chance to respond, left without another word.

Canada stood in shocked silence. His face began to heat up and turn red as he clenched his fists in anger. He was a nation, too, so he deserved respect. America never paid him much of any attention, and Canada was tired of it. "I can't believe this…" Canada whispered angrily. He slumped down in his chair at the breakfast table.

Kumajirou waddled up to him and placed a paw on his leg. "What's wrong?" he asked. Canada's eyes widened and he glanced down at the bear.

Sniffing, Canada replied, "America has lost all decency. I can't believe he had the nerve to treat me in such a way, like I'm not even here! _Il agit__comme un imbécile__crétin__! _I wish America would simply acknowledge me as the respectable country I am!" Canada felt as if he'd been ranting and suddenly took two deep, exasperated breaths before turning to Kumajirou, who looked up at him with beady dark eyes. "You understand, right, Kumajirou?"

The bear hesitated for a moment. Canada was becoming anxious in getting a reply. "Who are you?" Kumajirou asked.

Canada frowned as if he was about to cry. "I'm _Canada_!" He put his head on the table in defeat.

Meanwhile, England sat at a table in the café, checking his watch impatiently. Eventually a blonde boy came rushing in, bundled up with a scarf and a bomber jacket. The signature tuft of hair that stuck up on his head indicated exactly who it was. Even as he entered the café, his breath still turned to fog.

"It took you long enough," the Englishman scowled. He'd only been waiting for twenty minutes, but he always found a way to scold America about everything he did, including his punctuality.

"Just shut up, alright?" America sneered. England's perpetual scowl deepened as he noticed the solemn look on America's face. "I'm not in the best of moods right now, so tell me what's up?"

England glared suspiciously at the American. "What happened, Alfred?"

"It's none of your business," America retorted. In reality, he was actually feeling guilty. He feared that in his rush to leave the house, he may have hurt Canada's feelings. But he felt that he had to hurry so that England wouldn't have to rub the matter of punctuality in his face like he always did. Even despite them being "equals", England always treated him like a child, and America hated it.

The older nation waved off America's comment. "Anyways, I called you here because I needed to discuss a war tactic with you. In case you haven't noticed, tensions have already been arising in Europe, and Germany, Italy, and Japan have been training for some reason. I have a feeling that they may be planning to wage war once again."

"Dude," America said disbelievingly. "There's no way that they could be trying to conspire another war. Besides, Japan is a good friend of mine—there's no way he would do something like that. I mean, he comes over to my house on weekends to test out new video games. There is no way."

The American crossed his arms stubbornly and England sighed and took a sip of his tea. When he set the dainty cup back on its coaster, he looked up at America with all seriousness. "That's beside the point, Alfred. If they're training, I figured that regardless of who the enemy might be, we should prepare as well. That way, if those dreaded Axis Powers decide to pull any tricks, we'll know how to counter it."

America seemed to consider that point. "But, Dude, isn't World War II already over? I mean, how long has it been, like, sixty-eight years? Why would they still be considering waging war with one of us?"

"Like I said," Britain reasoned, "It is necessary that we train diligently before something like that actually occurs. My plan is to practice a new strategy by capturing Italy as a prisoner. And because you have a cell in your basement, I figured that would be a good place to put him while I continue working on my experiment."

There was a long period of silence while America thought this over. He wasn't particularly looking for a debate with England, and Germany certainly wasn't in the best of moods or on the best of terms with America. After it was found out that his own government may have been spying on Germany's ambassador, America wasn't really anticipating anything harsh that Germany would have to say. To say the least, he wasn't looking forward to this strategy at all.

"Fine… If you think this will work, Dude, I'll go along with it."

"Alright," England said, leaning over the table. "I've found out that those Axis Powers are going to be training hard at Italy's house. And you already know that the Italian's house is in a secluded place surrounded by trees, like your own.

"I'm listening," America said.

Britain smirked deviously. America hated when he did that because when Britain smiled, it typically meant he was planning something that would benefit himself and likely no one else. "Alright, so here's what we're going to do…"

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**A/N: That's the end of the first chapter. I certainly hope it isn't too boring, to say the least. I appreciate constructive criticism, but please don't bash it too much. This is my first story, so please be gentle when reviewing. I really hope you readers out there are looking forward to the next chapter. I certainly am. ^^**


	2. Causing More Problems

**A/N: Hey, Dudes! Z The Intellectual here! It hasn't been that long, but I was lucky enough to get some time off of homework to edit this. I hope this chapter isn't too lame... I hope you enjoy it! This story will probably start off pretty slow... I just don't want the chapters to be too terribly long. But, it will get rolling in the meantime. You just have to be patient. Patience is key, readers. ^^**

**P.S. Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia, nor do I own the characters. Though, if I did, I wouldn't know what to do with myself. _**

* * *

**Act II**

_**Causing More Problems**_

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Italy slammed the door shut behind him and sighed as he leaned against it. He'd just entered his bedroom in attempt to evade Germany. "_Vee_~" Italy exhaled. "Whew! Another long day of training… I really don't understand how Germany is able to do it so many times a day…"

He wandered farther into the room and stopped in the middle of the room. Italy looked up and examined it. It was necessarily as messy as Germany had deduced, but Italy was quite used to things being scattered and disorganized. _Besides,_ Italy thought, _my room is mostly empty anyways…_

As stated, there was a large amount of empty space in Italy's room. A bookshelf sat in the corner on his left, and beside it were two boxes: a big one that looked more like a treasure chest and a smaller one about the size of a shoebox. The other side of the room yielded an open window. Not far from it was a window with bright blue curtains, a large wall mirror, and more bookcases before his bed was spotted in the farthest right corner. A large cuckoo clock that Germany had given him rested above the headboard. A table adorned with flowers and an open book was to his right.

"_Veeee_…" Italy sighed tiredly. He was so exhausted. "I could just flop down and…" For a brief moment, Italy looked up through his chestnut hair and glanced over at his bed with honey-colored eyes. _My bed…_ Italy thought. _When I'm scared or lonely at night, I usually slip into Germany's, but today I feel so tired I could sleep alone for days!_

Then, Italy walked over to the mirror to examine himself. His face looked as if he'd been overworked and stressed. He had slight bags under his eyes, though they weren't as dark as they usually would be when he had a lack of sleep. It was actually quite a simple mirror, though his reflection was blurred quite a bit. Last Italy heard from Romano, was that it was an antique mirror, but he couldn't exactly remember where it came from.

The Italian was lost in thought for a moment, reminiscing on nights when he would have nightmares about monsters and even the World Wars. Suddenly, something sparked his interest and his head shot up.

"Is… Is that pasta I smell?" he asked no one in particular. He glanced around his room, trying to find the source of the aroma. He checked in both of the boxes in the room. They didn't have pasta, unfortunately. The large box only contained all of Italy's neatly folded blue uniforms, and the small box contained 100 Heta coins. "These might be useful later," Italy said, stuffing the gold coins into his pocket. "I should go figure out where that pasta smell is coming from."

Italy turned to leave through the door which he came. He paused all of a sudden when he heard angry, thundering footsteps and slamming doors. A voice with a thick German accent shouted, "ITALY! Where are you slacking off again?! Get back to training!" It was Germany, and he was furious that Italy had once again run away.

The brunette leapt back from the door, startled. "Ve! I don't want to face Germany right now…" He turned around and glanced at the open window on the other side of the room. "Maybe I should take the other way out…" he whispered to himself. He waltzed over to the open window and proceeded to climb out, despite his room being on the second floor of the house. Italy glanced over to the door to make sure that Germany hadn't noticed, and then continued to climb carefully down the vines that led up to his window.

As soon as his feet touched the ground, Italy glanced around at his natural, fresh surroundings. It was the middle of autumn, so the trees were just starting to change colors and shed their leaves. The grass, luckily, was still luscious and green. There were various ceramic pots and bins lying around the outside of his house. The Italian took a deep breath and exhaled satisfyingly. "There must be pasta around here~" I just have to find it!"

Italy tried to track down the smell as best he could. He went to the front of the house, and just before he was about to open the door, something jarred his memory. "_Ve_… Germany's still inside… I sure don't think there's any pasta in there…" He carefully backed away from the door and proceeded to continue his journey around the house. He trekked through the garden where potatoes and tomatoes, and several herbs like oregano, chervil, and parsley were growing. There definitely wasn't pasta here, and it surely wasn't hidden in the crate of tomatoes that rested beside the garden, either.

After circling the house, Italy ended up right back where he started. He thought about it for a moment and glanced around. And it was then that he noticed a path leading into the woods, and he decided to follow it.

As expected, the smell became stronger as he ventured deeper into the trees. Eventually, he came to a small clearing where a single plate of pasta rested on the ground. "Ooh! Here it is! I knew I would find it!" he exclaimed.

Now, Italy, being as naïve as he is, was unlikely to get too suspicious of a fresh plate of pasta lost in the forest. Oh, no. He was just planning on eating it. He picked up the plate of pasta and sighed.

"_There he is! Let's get him!"_

"_Shh… Stand down! We can't rush ahead so quickly…!"_

"Hm…?" Italy looked up with his eyebrows raised. For a second, he thought he'd heard voices. He stood in hesitant silence while he waited for another sound. Germany had taught him to do that, especially when in enemy territory. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary to him—only the occasional scampering of critters in the trees. When he didn't hear anything else, he simply shrugged his shoulders and said, "Oh, well… Let's eat!" The brunette plopped down on the ground, though Germany had constantly instructed him not to do so, for it would get his uniform dirty. "_Buon appetito!" _There was a long period of silence while Italy began to devour the pasta. It was almost… _too_ quiet. It was as if every bit of movement had suddenly stopped and was watching Italy eat. But the Italian was so absorbed in his meal, he hadn't noticed the two pairs of eyes watching him from the bushes on opposite sides of him. Of course he wouldn't notice any of it.

"_NOW_!"

If Italy hadn't had cat-like reflexes, he wouldn't have been able to react in time to dodge a swing from a baseball bat. "UWAH!" He exclaimed. Two blond haired nations stood before him – Britain and America.

America muttered angrily that he'd missed the first swing. "B-Britain? America? What are you doing here?" Italy stuttered.

"Just don't say anything, Italy, and do as we say." Britain said with his arms crossed. Even while claiming to be a gentleman, England knew that this was not, in any way, supposed to be a cordial confrontation. The brunette looked awestruck as he stared back, wide-eyed at the two nations.

The Italian was about to take off running, putting to good use his best and favorite war tactic—fleeing. He knew Germany would be furious with him if he surrendered… Wait. That's it! Germany! Italy could call him. They were allies after all, so he knew Germany would come to his aid. "GERMA—!" However, before Italy could call, he received a great, pain-inducing whack with America's baseball bat. Before he knew it, he was suddenly too weak to move or speak and suddenly lost consciousness.

America bit his lip—hard. "Um… I, uh… Did I hit him too hard, Britain?"

The Englishman shook his head and waved a dismissive hand. "Don't worry about it; he'll wake up soon enough. I've heard Italy's stronger than he looks." America looked at his ally's expression. It was cold, as usual. England then moved over to the collapsed Italian and knelt down. "Come here and help me pick him up. It's only a matter of time before Germany tracks us down after he finds out Italy's missing. Let's go."

America nodded somewhat hesitantly as he proceeded to lift Italy up and carry him over one shoulder. He really did feel kind of bad for hitting Italy, especially considering that the older nation hadn't done anything to him. He sighed and followed England through the trees, ignoring the heart-wrenching feeling in his chest as a thought of Canada flashed through his memory again.

It was just a feeling… right? The American didn't think anything of it, and he shrugged it off and tried to keep pace with England.

***** Meanwhile *****

After futile searching, Germany finally left the house through the front door and slammed it behind him. He leaned against it and sighed. "Well, it seems Italy has gone missing in action for training again… I'd better go catch him."

He clenched his jaw and his fists and muttered, "Seriously, where could he have gone?" Germany wandered around the house in search of his Italian ally. But he was nowhere to be found. He checked a path in the woods off to the side of the house. The path ended in a small clearing, which made Germany a little suspicious. "Well, it smells of pasta here, but no Italy."

The German glanced around and his brow furrowed. "The scent is still fresh. He was here not too long ago. Where did that idiot go?!" He looked through the bushes nearby, but still couldn't find Italy. Germany thought for a moment, looking around for any clues. Suddenly, he spotted something that glistened beside a rock near a bush.

Germany walked over to it, and gasped, though he wasn't entirely shocked by what he found. "These… These are America's glasses…" He picked them up and examined them. There was a slight smudge of pasta sauce on them. The blonde shook his head. "Agh, it seems Italy must've been captured again. _Mein Gott_… When will that boy learn to be careful around strange things?!"

The blonde ran a hand through his hair before he noticed a barely-visible path that continued through the trees. Germany approached the opening between the branches, and lifted some of the tree limbs to get a better view. It seemed as though a path had been manually cleared for the suspects to go unnoticed. "They seem to have gone this way…" Germany said, carefully easing his way through the brush.

Angry banging was heard on the door of the large house. "Oh, hey!" America exclaimed, frustrated. He marched down the stairs, rubbing his eyes in attempt to clear his horribly foggy vision. His glasses were missing, and he was having trouble seeing. "Who is it? We're a bit busy right now!"

He went into the foyer to open the door. However, as soon as he unlocked it, the door swung open and knocked him back. "Whoa! Hey, man-!" The door opened to reveal furious German. Germany was also dressed in his World War II uniform.

He placed a hand on his forehead and growled, "Of course, the Allies. Why didn't I suspect you all earlier?"

America seemed to be taken aback by the sudden accusations being made. He frowned and prepared a retort before he suddenly noticed the item that Germany held in his hand. "Wait, wha—? Oh, hey! Those are my spare glasses! Where'd you find Texas? I was looking all over for them!"

After tossing the American his glasses, Germany scowled as he watched the younger nation put them back on his face. America looked up at him, and Germany was sporting a rather harsh expression. Germany approached America and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, "Where is he? I know you have Italy."

America was silent for a few seconds, as if contemplating Germany's accusation. Then, he suddenly started to snicker. "Hahahaha! I knew England's plan was too obvious to leave a trail!" He was smiling as if the statement was funny, but Germany was not amused.

However, as suddenly as America had started laughing, his expression suddenly grew serious and his brow furrowed. "Get him, Alpha!" The German raised an eyebrow suspiciously. His suspicion quickly faded into surprise as a large German shepherd bolted after him from the hallway immediately in front of him.

Germany released the American and jumped back in shock. "Tch! You prefer to send your hounds after me?!" he shouted, enraged, "Fine, then!" The German barely had time to react before the dog was snapping at his arms and limbs. He kicked the dog away several times. It kept trying to jump on his back to knock him down. One thing that America had probably not realized was that this was a _German_ shepherd. Germany knew all about them and how to take them out. It wasn't long before Germany was able to subdue the angry dog and kick him to the wall, where the dog whimpered helplessly.

_Germany: _

_Gained: 70 EXP_

_Earned: 200 Heta_

"Alpha!" America cried. He ran to his dog's aid. "You heartless jerk! I'll get you for this!" The American clenched his teeth angrily.

Germany marched over to him just as the American stood up, nearly a few inches taller than the German. "I did not ask to be attacked by your mangy mutt! Cut the s_cheiße_ and just take me to Italy!"

America looked Germany in the face blankly. To Germany, it seemed as if he wasn't looking at him, but over his shoulder and at the front door. His brow furrowed as the American had the nerve to even crack a smile. As if he was about to laugh, America hesitated before replying, "…If that's what you want."

Realizing that America may have been plotting something more that what he suspected. "Wha-?!" Germany could hardly turn around or get any words out before he was suddenly whacked from behind with something heavy and hit the floor with an unsettling thud. The blow hadn't knocked him unconscious, until something was then quickly administered into his arm. Just before he lost consciousness, Germany caught a blurry glimpse of a smirking England glaring down at him.

* * *

**And _there's_ the end to Chapter 2. Poor Italy... And Germany was trying to be a hero, like America. Whew! You wouldn't believe how hard it was for me to even figure out how to post a chapter. It's harder than I thought... Is there anyone out there who could explain this whole "updating" process better? I really don't trust myself to try and figure it out on my own without the computer exploding... ^^"**

**Anywho... I'll try to update again as soon as I can. I'd certainly like reviews, though. Maybe three reviews and I'll post the next chapter if I get it finished in time. Third time's the charm, am I right? 3 is a good number... I've got Semester Exams coming up! Wish us (students) luck! :)**


	3. Sudden Comatose

**Hey out there, Dudes! Z The Intellectual, here! Finally Semester Exams are over! *breathes huge sigh of relief* I passed each one with flying colors. As an early Christmas present, I decided to post this next chapter. Surprisingly enough, I had plenty of time to type this one up (because I didn't have homework), but hey! At least it's done, right? Hahaha! Please, read and review! Once again, I do appreciate constructive criticism... ****Hopefully there aren't too many mistakes... ^^"**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia - the characters belong to Hidekaz Himaruya ( I think that's how it's spelled... ^^" )**

* * *

**Act III**

_**Sudden Comatose**_

* * *

It was dark. Nothing but black was surrounding him. "…Germany!" Was… Was someone calling him? There was a brief silence and he subconsciously shrugged it off. "…Germany!"

Finally, Germany came to. He groaned as he slowly opened his eyes. When his vision became less blurry, he found a worried-looking Italy kneeling above him. The stone ceiling seemed to be awfully close, from his perspective. Germany blinked and let out a pained groan.

He sat up slowly, with Italy's help, and glanced around, dumbfounded. They seemed to be in a cell in a basement. Cement bricks built up the walls and poorly kept furniture lined the wall behind him. Two ragged beds were positioned against the wall, and across from him, two broken barrels sat with various planks of wood scattered here and there.

Germany could tell by the looks of this place that it hadn't been used in a while. It was dingy and had a musky odor, while cobwebs hung daintily from every possible nook and cranny. He frowned at his surroundings. It wasn't long before he noticed two blond-haired figures standing just outside of the steel bars the enclosed them in the cell.

America was standing beside Britain, staring at them thoughtfully. Britain had his arms crossed and his signature scowl was plastered on his face. He wasn't angry, Germany noted, as he watched England turn to America with a snarky look on his face, as if to say, "I told you so."

Indeed, England glanced over at the younger nation with his eyebrows raised and said, "See? I told you it would work."

In response, America shoved his gloved hands into the pockets of his bomber jacket, threw his head back, and laughed. "I guess so! Ahahahaha!"

At this, the Englishman rolled his eyes and walked away without any acknowledgement to America. The younger nation frowned, offended. As he followed Britain outside the basement, he sneered, "You're paying for my dog's vet bills…"

When the door shut behind them, Italy and Germany were left in silence. The brunette looked down at Germany with a worried expression. Then he took a deep breath and smiled brightly, "Are you alright, Captain?"

"Ugh…" Germany groaned as Italy helped him to his feet. "My head hurts a bit, but that's about all. At least I'm not severely injured… You?"

Italy turned his gaze to the ground. "My head hurts, too… I was dropped on my way over here... I'm so sorry, Germany!"

The blonde shook his head and tried to refrain from frowning, which would only make Italy feel worse. The thought that they could be so careless and drop Italy irritated Germany. "It's okay," he replied gruffly. "Our main priority is just to get out of here right now before those two get back." Keeping his gaze cautiously focused on the exit, Germany quickly backed his way over to the wall. "Help me find a way out."

The Italian nodded. He crossed the room over to where the barrels sat against the wall. He cautiously examined it. _Just rotten furniture… nothing to see here…_ Italy thought. Then, he walked over to the gate that kept them in the enclosure. He knew that it was locked tight, and there was no key in sight. He pulled at the cold metal bars to see if they were loose, but they didn't budge. He couldn't even get a rattling noise out of them. Italy sighed and flicked the gate, earning a little _clank_ sound in response—as if the bars themselves were reminding him that this was futile. _These bars are made of steel, _Italy thought. _They're too solid, even for Germany._

After wandering about in the mostly empty cell, Italy approached Germany to see how he was doing. Germany had a placid expression on his face. He lifted an eyebrow as if to ask why Italy was there. "I'm covering this part," he said. "Search the other half."

He then walked over to the two poorly constructed beds. They seemed to be made of straw and what appeared to be ripped tissue. Italy sat on one of them but nearly leaped out of his skin when he heard a small _crunch_. "Ew! I squished a cockroach!"

Endless, tiring searching had eventually led to Italy standing in the middle of the cell once again. He pouted and crossed his arms. "It looks like I can't find a way out…" he muttered softly so himself. Then he turned around and his face brightened as he watched Germany examine weak spots in a large crack that was present on the wall, "Though it looks like Germany has everything handled over there!"

Italy smiled and walked over to one of the beds and sat down, careful to examine it and make sure there were no small creatures in it. As he lay back on the raggedy pillow, he let out a huge sigh and whispered, "Siesta time, ve~" as he closed his eyes and went to sleep.

…_Ah… My head hurts so much…_

_Maybe I could just sleep the pain away…_

_After all… We can't feel pain in our dreams!_

When Italy opened his eyes, he was standing in a massive field of flowers and green grass. He could hear the sound of rushing water nearby as he glanced around, curiously. The place was rather familiar to him.

He smiled and inhaled deeply, "Ah… So pretty…" The scent of the flowers was intoxicating… The sun was shining brightly above him, welcoming him to this wonderland. He decided to explore a bit, when he suddenly heard a voice calling him, "Italy!"

The brunette raised his head, "Hm?"

"Italy, come over here!" the voice beckoned, sweetly.

Italy decided to do as he was told. He attempted to follow the voice to figure out where it was coming from. After what seemed to be endless searching through the tall grass and abundance of flowers, the Italian eventually found himself facing a large tree. Its trunk was rather thick—so large, in fact, that Italy couldn't even attempt to reach his arms all the way around it. Its branches stretched high above him, voluminous and full of leaves, partially blocking out the sun that rested in the sky.

"Italy! You made it!" the voice said, excitedly.

Italy stepped back and smiled, "Of course I did! I wouldn't miss it!" Suddenly, a figure materialized before him, gaining the appearance of someone familiar. The male figure had slicked-back blonde hair and sky blue eyes. Germany. He was even wearing the same green and black WWII uniform from when they fought together.

The German approached him and smiled brightly. "I was so afraid you wouldn't come…" he said almost dreamily.

At this, Italy grinned from ear to ear and waved a dismissive hand. "Nonsense, Captain!" he assured him.

Oddly, in response, Germany looked away as if disappointed. He cast his gaze downward and shook his head. "You know," he said. "You don't have to call me that…"

For a moment, Italy raised an eyebrow. Then, smiling, Germany concluded, "Just calling me Germany is good enough."

In response, Italy laughed, "Whatever you say, Germany!" He sighed happily. _Ve…_ he thought. _He's actually smiling for once…_

There was a period of silence between the two. It was as if Germany was contemplating what to say to Italy. Italy had gotten distracted again, though, and was laughing and trying to catch some of the flying insects.

"Hey, I have an idea," Germany said. Italy looked back at him, eyebrows raised expectantly. "Let's do something together! You know, like friends do!"

"Oh? Like what?"

Germany smiled sweetly at Italy. "Well, that depends what _you_ want to do… We can talk about pasta or pizza or art or go swimming… anything," he replied.

At this, Italy jumped for joy and clasped his hands together excitedly. "Ooh! Swimming sounds like fun! We should do that!"

"Then what are we waiting for?" Germany then began making his way through the field and over to the shore of the lake. The rushing water he'd heard must've been from the stream that fed into it.

Italy sighed. _It really has been too long since I've seen him happy like that…_ he thought. The Italian glanced up at the bright sun and reached his hand up to it. Looking at the five-digit silhouette, Italy then lowered his hand and closed his eyes, letting the warmth envelop him. _Or… happy at all, for that matter…_

He followed Germany's path through the field until he found himself standing behind the blonde at the shore of the lake. "How's the water?" he asked, smiling.

"Perfect," Germany replied.

The Italian grinned widely, "Hurray!" Then he backed up several paces. "Germany, hug me!" he exclaimed, running and leaping into the German's arms as they fell into the lake with a splash.

…_!_

_I… I can't breathe…!_

Italy sat up immediately, startled out of his sleep. He woke up coughing. "Finally, you wake up," Germany said. "The tunnel is ready." Italy raised his eyebrows, trying to take in what was going on. He glanced around and found Germany's canteen lying on the floor, barely dripping. He lifted a hand to his head and found that his hair was soaking wet. The tips of it were dripping water onto the shoulders of his uniform. _His canteen's empty… He must've poured it on my head to wake me up…_ Italy observed.

It was then that Italy realized the situation by the agitated, impatient expression on Germany's face. "Ah!" he exclaimed as his face lit up in fear. "I'm so sorry, Germany! I was just so tired, and—!"

Germany fixed a placid expression on his face as he quieted his ally. "Shh… Let's go, Italy."

"Y-yes, sir…" Italy said, standing up as he looked guiltily to the floor. The two then proceeded through the tunnel that Germany had made from the large crack in the wall.

Italy entered his room and slammed the door shut behind him. "Vee, that was exhausting!" he sighed. "I'm sure glad we got away! Though now I really, _really_ need some sleep!"

He walked over to his mirror to examine himself. "I look very handsome…" he swooned. Then there was a moment of silence as he continued to stare back at his reflection, smiling.

Suddenly, his face lit up in terrified shock as a shadow covered his forehead. He gasped and stepped back from the mirror. His reflection had morphed into an entirely different image—one with blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. Italy shook as the figure seemed to reach out from the mirror. When it stepped through, he couldn't bring himself to speak.

"G…Germany…?"

The figure was nearly transparent, Italy realized, for he could still see his own reflection in the mirror though the figure stood right in front of him. The pseudo-German moved his lips as if to speak, but no sound came out.

"… I can't hear you…" Italy replied almost guiltily. "Let's see if I can read your lips."

Germany repeated the action, but Italy still could not understand a word he was saying. At this, Italy shrugged his shoulders, not knowing what else to do. The German glanced at Italy before looking around the room. Upon spotting the bed in the corner, he walked over to it and turned his gaze back to Italy.

The brunette raised his eyebrows. "You… You want me to go to bed…?" The figure nodded slowly and Italy replied, "Okay!"

He walked cautiously over to his bed. As Italy prepared to climb onto the mattress, he thought, _this is all so fun… I wonder if I'm asleep right now!_

When Italy lay down he glanced over at Germany, who smiled back at him assuring. Then he closed his eyes and slowly drifted off to sleep.

However, as soon as Italy lost consciousness, he didn't notice when the German figure shed its outer appearance and a shadowy being with piercing white circles for eyes approached his bed and loomed over him menacingly.

"It's hard to breathe here…" a voice said softly.

Germany was standing at the bank of a fast-flowing river, staring back at his reflection blankly. "Hm..?" He looked up with a raised eyebrow and turned around.

About twenty paces away, stood a brunette figure in a blue and black uniform with his back to Germany. The odd curl in his hair indicated exactly who it was. "Italy…?" Germany muttered softly, but at a volume loud enough for Italy to hear.

The Italian did not reply but instead kept breathing heavily as if trying to catch his breath. "…What is it?" Germany insisted, trying to avoid becoming impatient with the childish country.

There was a moment of silence before Italy muttered, "…You don't want me…" Then the brunette sprinted away.

Germany's brow furrowed in confusion, and he exclaimed, "Tch!" He hadn't expected Italy to run away from him. He usually didn't, which was strange. "Italy! Wait!" Germany called after him.

He chased his ally through the grass until he found Italy standing beneath the shadow of a large tree—one with a thick trunk and branches that reached out towards the sky, thick with leaves. The Italian still wouldn't face him, which surprised Germany, considering how much Italy thought of him as a friend.

Italy seemed to shudder. From where Germany was standing, it had either seemed as though the shadow from the tree was covering selective parts of his uniform, making them look black, or Italy must've been upset that he'd spilled ink on it again. Either way, whatever was going on, Germany was sure that it was downright suspicious. "…Italy…?"

Once again, Italy did not immediately respond. He breathed heavily before turning around slowly. The sight of him caused Germany to jump back in fear.

"Gah!" Germany exclaimed.

Italy had a creepy smile plastered onto his face, not the usually cheerful, relaxed smile that he was known for. This seemed to be more of a menacing smile. The Italian's right arm was completely obscured in black and splotches of the same black matter were present on his left sleeve and right leg.

What scared Germany the most was how Italy's eyes were no longer the sweet golden-honey color that they normally were. They'd turned blue—but not sky blue like his own eyes—the blue was so unnaturally bright, Germany had to muster up all the strength he could to resist turning away. While his right eye burned blue, the left side of Italy's face was masked with the black material. Where it covered his eye, Germany could see no iris. No pupil. His eye simply seemed to be an opening through which white light streamed out like a flashlight.

The way Italy spoke to him was strange, too. It didn't even sound like the Italian's voice. It was gravelly and had a slight hissing tone to it.

"sOMetHinG wRoNG, CApTaiN…?"

Germany awoke with a startled shout. He leapt from the bed and landed on the floor with a loud thud. His breathing was panicky and he was sweating immensely. "…Ah…" he sighed. "Just a nightmare… That was an odd one…"

Indeed, Germany did have nightmares, but ones such as these were highly uncommon. A majority of the bad dreams had been about his past and several different wars. But this…? It was plain unusual and strange.

Germany glanced around the room, to make sure that nothing was out of place, and of course, to make sure he wasn't still in a dream. "Hmm…" he said, looking at the door thoughtfully, "I better go check to see if Italy is okay."

As he was walking out of the room, Germany looked over at the two beer bottles and the mug sitting on his study table. Papers were scattered amongst open books and made it look messy. The German shook his head. _This isn't the time to drink beer_… he warned himself.

Germany reached into a box on the far side of the room and took out two items.

_Pasta x2_

Then he proceeded to leave the room. He closed the door behind him as he stepped out into the hallway. Germany passed paintings of the world map and several other landscapes, as well as a handmade cuckoo clock that he put on the wall just above the stairs.

The German entered Italy's room to find Italy lying on his bed with his eyes shut peacefully. He approached him and looked over his ally to find him breathing slowly. "…Oh, he's asleep…" Germany muttered. "I better not disturb him. He's been through an awful lot today." He spun on his heel and decided to leave the room. However, before he opened the door, he hesitated. Something didn't seem quite right…

Usually, Italy wasn't that heavy of a sleeper, and could typically acknowledge Germany's presence from a mile away. It was unusual that Italy hadn't even twitched a muscle since Germany entered the room. How odd…

Germany approached Italy again and put two fingers on his ally's wrist. "…His pulse is slow," he said. "Almost like…" Now, the blonde knew that it was normal for the heart rate to slow during sleep, so he shrugged it off at first. And then, something occurred to him.

The German gasped in surprise. "Italy!" He shouted. He slapped Italy, not in attempt to hurt him, but to wake him up. However, the brunette didn't budge, didn't even cringe in pain. He just kept sleeping with the same peaceful expression plastered on his face.

"Italy! Wake up this instant!" Germany commanded. He slapped the Italian two more times, but his attempts were futile. He shook Italy helplessly, but to no avail. Italy didn't wake up.

Germany growled at himself, frustrated. "Ah, how could I be so foolish as to let him go to bed with a concussion!" he scolded himself. He crossed his arms and tapped his boot on the floor impatiently and anxiously. "What should I do now…? I haven't read a manual about comatose yet!"

The German grinded his teeth together in thought. "Grah! It's probably those two's fault!" he exclaimed, tightening his hands into fists. "That England probably knows healing techniques. I'll make him fix it."

After concluding this, Germany made his way to the door. He opened it, but just before he left, he glanced back at Italy as if he would wake up. But he didn't. So Germany shook his head solemnly and left without another word, though he went down the hallway muttering angrily.

* * *

**And... That's pretty much all for now... This chapter actually turned out longer than the other two. Hopefully it was a bit more interesting as well. I hope you all enjoyed reading this. Merry Christmas! And Happy Holidays! **


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